


Footprints in the Sands of Prayer

by matan4il



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: AU, Angel Eddie, Angel Wings, Bartender Eddie, Bartender!Eddie, M/M, Protective Eddie, Protective Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Wingfic, alternative universe, angel au, angel!eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: Buck has a taste for danger and for men in leather, which is why the handsome new bartender at the gay place across the block has quickly become his new favorite bit of eyecandy. The guy is always rocking a leather jacket when he arrives and leaves, sometimes during the shift as well, oozing an air of quiet power.OrThe one where Buck is lusting after a gorgeous bartender, who may end up being more than meets the eye.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts), [novemberhush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/gifts), [iambeckyz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iambeckyz/gifts), [kaitlia777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/gifts), [meisterdani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meisterdani/gifts).



> Dedicated to four of my favorite people in this fandom, Ro, Dee, Becky and Kate! Happiest of birthdays to you wonderful lovelies and I hope your every day shines just like you do. Sending you so much love and tons of hugs! <33333
> 
> This fic was born because Ro threw pics at me of Eddie in a leather jacket, but then suddenly, he was an angel too. Don't ask me how! Thank you to Cath, Mari and Dani for throwing even more leather jacket wearing Eddie at me... Some of these pics can be found posted with the fic! Also, a big thank you to Deb for helping the second part of this chapter fall into place. Lastly, a huge thank you to Toughpaperround for the fantastic beta'ing, as always! 
> 
> You're always welcome to come say hi and leave feedback, comments, requests, questions at [my Tumblr](matan4il.tumblr.com/)!

  
  
  
  


Buck has a taste for danger and for men in leather, which is why the handsome new bartender at the gay place across the block has quickly become his new favorite bit of eyecandy. The guy is always rocking a leather jacket when he arrives and leaves, sometimes during the shift as well, oozing an air of quiet power. 

Buck's aware his interest is shallow and that all of his initial flirting attempts have been smoothly evaded, so he's been settling for ordering his drinks, talking to other men there and sneaking in an occasional glance without hoping for anything more. It's fine, not like he's harboring some mad crush or anything, it's only been a week since the man started working there and okay, maybe Buck has been skipping going home with anyone else for the chance of staring at those dark eyes intense at work, but that's about to change tonight. He will find himself someone else to go home with, even if it kills him. 

That's why he's sitting at the bar, letting a guy who introduced himself as Duncan chat him up. He's not exactly Buck's type, too skinny and skittish. Definitely got nothing on the bartender in terms of an impressive presence. But Duncan's interested and for now, that's all that matters, because Buck's only goal is to get back on the having sex horse. 

"Yep, and what people don't get about this hobby is that it's really not as boring as its reputation would have you believe," Duncan says with a victorious grin. 

"Oh." Buck's eyebrows are raised, he's nodding his head and he hopes it's a close enough imitation of interest for this guy's feelings not to be hurt. 

Someone on the other side of the bar approaches them. 

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks. 

'Your number' is on the tip of Buck's tongue every time. "Dracula's Kiss, please," he requests and tries to keep the innuendo out of his voice, even when he can't stop it from playing out in his mind. 

"Ah, your fave vanilla coke and black cherry vodka cocktail. Coming right up." 

"Thanks," Buck says and reminds himself the only reason that this gorgeous man knows his preferred drink is a professional one. And that there is no reason to get a thrill out of their fingers accidentally brushing against each other as he pays for the cocktail. 

"Nothing for me, thank you," Duncan says. 

His loss, Buck can't stop the thought. The bartender's fingers were warm and their texture rugged, leaving the feel of their touch like a mark on his skin. 

He takes a sip from his cocktail and, inwardly sighing, turns back to Duncan. "That misconception must be frustrating," he says and does his best to concentrate on the responding diatribe. 

A short visit to the bathrooms and after the whole cocktail's been consumed, Buck is ready for this part of the evening to be over. He's a sure thing for Duncan anyway, why stall? 

"Hey, if you wanna talk some more, my loft is nice and quiet. Not too far from here," Buck leans into the guy's ear and as he does, he catches the bartender's eyes on him. There's a pang of something between his ribs that could have stopped Buck in his tracks. If only that look had meant what he'd have liked it to. 

"That'd be perfect," Duncan grins. It's so wide that it reminds Buck of the Cheshire cat. He didn't really like that part of the Disney movie at first and had to rewatch to get used to it. 

They step out and the cold night air forces Buck to zip up his jacket. For two seconds he thinks about the bartender and how good that man looks in his, before those images have to be pushed down. He has to focus and not ruin this one night stand before it's even begun. 

"My car is in the alley round the back," Duncan points out as he turns in that direction, obviously expecting Buck to follow. 

"Ummm. My loft is close enough that you don't need to move it." 

"Oh, that's... that's good, but I don't like leaving my car unsupervised, even if it is close by. It's a quirk of mine. Indulge me?" He asks with that Cheshire cat smile on his face. 

He doesn't really want to, but Buck isn't the guy to question people's oddities. Every time he goes on a tirade of facts that his friends don't particularly care for, it serves as a reminder to be patient with other people in the way he would have liked others to react to him. "Sure," he says and follows Duncan into the dark alley. 

It's not a pleasant place. If Buck were a smaller man physically, he'd be reluctant to come in here even with company, let alone on his own. He has to hand it to Duncan, the guy must be braver than he appears. 

Unfortunately, Buck's not in the mood to hand him anything, as Duncan is scanning their surroundings and then lets out a small nervous laughter. 

"Please don't tell me you're not sure where you've parked your car," Buck's on the verge of seriously begging. It's getting late and they're wasting time. He doesn't have work in the morning, but he would like a nice sleep in without waking up too late as a result and feeling disoriented because of that. 

"It's definitely in this alley. Ummm, would you mind helping me find it? If we split up, we'll manage it in half the time." 

Well, this night keeps on getting better, doesn't it? Not that there's much choice about this now, it is the logical thing to do, creepy as the alley may be. "Alright," he agrees. "What kind of car am I looking for?" 

"It's a Volkswagen Beetle," Duncan replies. When Buck stares at him in surprise, he shrugs. "I like older car models, what can I say..." 

"Well, I guess that would at least make it easy to spot." 

Buck sighs internally and starts walking down one side of the alley, surveying the parked cars he's passing by, while Duncan takes the other side. 

They're not moving along at the same pace. Buck's substantially taller with bigger strides, not to mention he's been getting pretty annoyed at the waste of time and soon enough, he's moving much faster along his row of cars, almost reaching the end of the alley. It's a dead end, no less. He takes in the pockets of darkness where the alley widens and turns into a small, unofficial parking lot. Buck grimaces at the notion of venturing there. He turns back to the last few parked vehicles that he needs to inspect, hoping one of those is Duncan's, which would finally put an end to the search. 

He passes two more cars before he has this sudden suspicion that he's not alone, a hunch that someone may be right behind him. 

Turning around, he finds Duncan approaching, coming far too close, to the point where their crotches are almost rubbing against each other. No big deal, Buck supposes. That's going to happen anyway and with far fewer clothes between them. 

"I found it!" Duncan announces with an air of victory and as if it's obvious that this is what the statement will lead to, he leans in and kisses Buck. 

It's... okay. Not like it's a bad kiss or anything, there's a part of Buck which is enjoying it. A physical part, because the body is a dumb machine and if one knows where to press a button or pull a lever, the machine will react and it will be nice. The main issue is the rest of Buck, which he realizes isn't really into it anymore. So it doesn't really matter if to a degree it's enjoyable and that yes, he's supposed to be interested, to get laid. But the sequence of events has taken him out of the mood and much as he would like to get over the handsome bartender by getting under someone else, this guy is probably not the solution at this point. 

Buck raises one hand to put some distance between them and signal for Duncan to withdraw. He pushes a tiny bit and there's a flash of bright blue light that drowns out everything for a moment, before it disappears. 

For that one beat, Buck feels strangely comforted by the light. Like it was somehow embracing him, reassuring that everything was going to be okay. Even after it's gone, the comfort lingers, a sense of relief aided by Buck noticing that there is no one pressing up against him anymore. But there is someone standing not too far away. Buck blinks and tries to focus on the sight. It's the bartender, all casual in that leather jacket which Buck has become so familiar with, nonchalantly holding up the body of an unconscious Duncan as if he weighed nothing. 

That doesn't add up. There was no way for that man to have come over here, grabbed Duncan and knocked him out, lifted the body and moved away into the spot and position they're in now in the nanosecond that all happened. Not to mention that odd flash of blue light. There is no natural explanation for this and if that's the case... 

"What..." Buck starts and there are so many questions on his mind, most of which he can't fully formulate yet, so he goes for the first one he does. "What are you?" 

The bartender's eyes flash a luminescent blue, before they settle back on the warm brown Buck has stared at for several nights in a row. 

For a minute, maybe two, there's no answer. The man must be weighing his options. Whatever he has to admit to, it's without a doubt not something that happens often. 

"An angel," he finally says. 

It sounds ridiculous and impossible, but the tone of his voice is calm and serious. He must have figured out that Buck does believe the world holds more than meets the eye, so he's open to hearing this. Doubt isn't why he's staring and has to remind himself to blink. "The literal kind, you mean? An angel of the Lord?" 

"No, not of the... well, not anymore." 

The bartender flashes his eyes blue again and the door to a car opens up on its own. A beetle, Buck realizes. 

The man... the angel places the unconscious Duncan in the back seat. When he turns back around to face Buck, he asks, "You're okay now, right? He didn't hurt you?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine, I... Wait, you came out here because you thought he was going to hurt me?" 

A pause. The answer is calm and collected, though Buck can pick up on some strain of uncertainty all the same. "Angels sense certain things. He had indecent intentions." 

"Duh," Buck snorts. "It's why I went with him. He wasn't assaulting me or anything." 

The angel scrunches up his lips. "Don't tell me, he's just a sweet guy who wouldn't hurt a puppy." 

Buck shrugs in response. "I don't know what kind of a guy he is, we haven't talked that much, but the most daring thing he's done so far was to kiss me. Which isn't a crime when we were basically going home together to fuck. How come I have to explain this? You... okay, you work as a bartender! There's no way you come out into dark alleys and do that whole whooosh thing," Buck tries to imitate the blue flash of light with his hands, "every time someone with sleazy intentions takes another person home. You'd be out here several times a night!" 

That gets him something between a huff and a snort. "Don't read too much into it, Buck." 

"You know my name? I never told you what it is." No verbal answer to that. Instead, all he gets is a long stare, like he's a problem that's proving to be harder to solve than expected. Buck shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and squares his shoulders. "I think it's only fair if you told me yours, then." 

The angel draws in his lower lip, presses the upper one on top of it. Buck can hear the refusal about to come and his shoulders further tense against it. 

"Eddie." That's... that's an actual answer. Surprising. 

"Hi, Eddie," Buck smiles over the beauty of the name and the quiet joy of it being shared with him. 

"And bye." 

"Bye? Oh," he frowns. "Are you going to zap Duncan home?" 

"With an entire car along with him? Too conspicuous. I'm going to drive him there." 

"Then I'm coming along," Buck sprints over the short distance to the passenger's door. 

"You're not," Eddie replies decisively. 

"Hey, you're the one who knocked out my one night stand. I think it's the responsible thing on my part, to come with you and make sure you don't hurt him any further because of your jealousy." 

"Jealousy?" Eddie's voice is incredulous and it's the first time that emotion bleeds into it. "What are you talking about? I'm not jealous." 

"Denial is almost as sexy on you as that leather jacket," Buck winks and gets in, closing the car door with a slam. 

Eddie groans and leans over the car's door frame, but remains standing outside. "If, and that's a big one, if we're doing this together, you're going to stop flirting, okay?" 

"Sure." Buck isn't sure at all he means that. But hey, angels apparently sense things, so it should be obvious enough that he only half agrees to this. If Eddie doesn't pick up on that, as his entering the car seems to indicate, it's his own fault that his angel-dar is off. 

There's a smell that lingers in the air of the vehicle, once all the doors are shut and they take to the road. Maybe Buck sensed it in the bar as well, but it's much stronger when Eddie is so close by. One undeniable layer of it is the leather. But underneath it is something different, which Buck can't describe, not in the same way he can other odors. In some strange way, it is all at once sweet and rough and beautiful. 

What kind of a smell is beautiful? But Eddie's is. 

"He's actually pretty nice, in a dorky sort of way," Buck points his thumb over his shoulder at the unconscious Duncan in the back seat, when what he means is that he'd love to know if Eddie tastes anything like what he smells. 

"Mmmm." 

"Much better kisser than you might think, looking at him." 

Utter silence. 

Buck doesn't let that deter him. On the contrary, he puffs out his chest. "And I know what I'm talking about, I've kissed a pretty respectable number of men and women..." 

"I know." Eddie cuts him off right away. 

He does? That's interesting. "Huh. Is that one of the things angels can simply sense?" 

He lets out a noncommittal noise. 

"I'm sorry," Buck won't let it go, "what was that again?" 

Eddie sighs. "I might have asked about you." 

"Uh." Isn't that nice? Definitely justifies the surge of smugness rising inside Buck. "You were interested enough to hold a small investigation?" 

"I didn't..." 

"You must really like me." 

"I'm..." Eddie's clearly flustered. "How do you turn on the radio in this car?" He fumbles for the buttons, but isn't very successful. It's strangely adorable. 

"Here," Buck offers and turns it on. "Hey, you've got good timing, I love this song! Wait, no... When I say stuff like that, can you tell if I'm lying?" 

"No, I'm... It's not like that. I get a more general sense of whether I should trust someone or not." 

"Okay, good. Because that would be a really annoying thing to have in a boyfriend." 

"Boyfriend? Buck..." Eddie sounds honestly ready to freak out and okay, that bit of teasing might have gone too far. 

"No, don't roll your eyes, that's not good for driving. Just..." Buck wants to fix what he might have damaged. Why did he even say that? It's not like he's looking for any commitment. He'd happily take some fun with a sexy guy and no additions. In Buck's not so vast experience, there's only one thing he knows how to do in a situation like this. Be real. "Just let me enjoy for a second that if that's what you sense, you must have felt like you can trust me." 

He didn't mean to sound quite that earnest, but Eddie for once doesn't chastise him or try to derail what he's saying. They're both quiet for a long stretch and it's oddly good. 

By the time Eddie pulls up next to a typical downtown apartment building, Buck is kind of sad the silence gets broken. 

"This is the place." 

Yeah, obviously. Buck doesn't say that. He exits the car, slamming the door after him as Eddie also comes out, and looks up. "Which floor?" 

"Third. But you're not coming." 

"Eddie, I'm..." 

"No, neither one of us has any business in this man's apartment in his current state, but at least I wasn't the one he was trying to be..." there's a small, under the radar swallow. "intimate with." 

Eddie may have a point, but all Buck is thinking of is that if he walks in that apartment alone, he'll probably just zap himself to wherever angels spend their nights, ending Buck's as well before he's ready for it to be over. 

"I don't have a way to get home," he blurts out. It's true, not a sensible one at least. But he also wouldn't have been worried, he would have figured something out, if it weren't for the way he wants more time together before they have to go their separate ways. Eddie's muscles bulge under his leather jacket as he pulls the unconscious Duncan out of the back seat of the car. Anyone in Buck's position would want the same. 

"The keys to Duncan's building and apartment are in the pocket of his coat. Can you pull them out and open up the door?" 

"You can't just use some of your powers for this?" 

"I can, but I won't where people might see it." 

Buck nods and approaches them slowly. There's no real reason to, but he's now acutely aware of how small the gap between them is about to be. When he's there, he can feel the angel's breath on his face and... Oh. So they do breathe. And it's warm, like a caress against his skin. Buck would love nothing more than to close his eyes and enjoy it, let the almost-touch wipe away every unpleasant moment he has ever gone through. But his fingers in Duncan's pocket close around a set of keys and he pulls it out. 

"The green one," Eddie says and gestures at the building's door with his chin. He's not showing any signs of fatigue from carrying around a knocked-out adult male. 

Buck walks over and unlocks it using the indicated key. There's an elevator in the lobby and he presses the button for it. When the door opens without any wait, he considers that maybe it remained on the ground floor if Duncan was the last person to use it, going out to the bar and having no idea how his night would end. 

Eddie walks in with his cargo safely in his arms, still no sign of effort or sweat from him. But when Buck steps inside after him, there is a heat that rises from his body, enticing and engulfing. There are no mirrors in this elevator and thank fuck for small mercies like that, because if there was one, it would most likely show Buck just how flushed he is. 

The elevator reaches the third floor and Buck steps out first. "The red key," Eddie says. "Second door on your right." 

After the apartment door is open, he walks in with Duncan. "Stay inside, by the entrance," he instructs and heads off, allowing Buck to step in, lock the door and take a sneak peek around. 

Duncan's apartment is somewhat similar to the impression the guy gives off. All the colors are subdued and there is very little mess around, in every room Buck can glance from where he's standing. He's bitten by a small jab of guilt, because he's still excited to be here. Just... not because of the owner. 

"He's blissfully snoring away in bed," the real cause for his excitement reports, returning to the room with a determined stride. 

Buck nods. And that's all he does, because Eddie's walking right up to him, getting even closer than they were before. 

"Your turn," the angel says and grips Buck tight by his biceps, eyes flashing blue. When the light subsides, they're in the loft, standing by the door. He's let go of, but where Eddie had held him, the skin is running hot and tender. Buck would sprint into his bathroom, roll up his sleeve and check for any marks, if it weren't for the fact that Eddie is not backing away. 

It's coming. Almost tangible in the absence of words or distance between them, making Buck's insides quake with anticipation. What will it be like when it happens, with a being so powerful? So withdrawn and guarded? 

There's a question mark in Eddie's eyes, wordlessly spelling out, 'May I?' where there shouldn't be any doubt. 

"Please do," Buck lets slip instinctively and just like that, he's overwhelmed by the same smell he was mesmerized by earlier, by the feeling of arms in a leather jacket wrapping up around him, by a subtle touch at his chin, angling his head. Eddie is kissing him. 

After the swiftness in the angel's actions, it takes Buck by surprise how soft the kiss is. Their lips against each other, soft and malleable and tingling. It's magical. And sparks a desire in every part of Buck's body, a craving in some deeper part of himself. Their kiss is so much more than buttons being pushed, it's layers being gently exposed and every part of him coming alive. 

With all of that rich experience that Buck wasn't exaggerating earlier, this is the best damn fucking kiss he's ever had, better than anything he thought possible and how can that even be when it's still chaste... Which it is, despite his dick, like the rest of him, being raw and already hard with yearning. He moans into the kiss, breathless. Holds on to the seams of the leather jacket because he might fall apart completely if he doesn't. Eddie grinds up against him as an answer, uses those big, capable hands Buck has stared at too much to grab at the back of his head and with the pressure of lips alone, opens up their mouths to devour him. Slams them both into the wall and dives in, like Eddie's ready to be lost in this moment for the rest of time. 

Until he's not. 

Because he draws back unexpectedly and, for as warm as his body is, that's how cold Buck is left in the wake of this withdrawal. It happens so fast, his fingers are still holding on to air when his brain finally catches up that Eddie isn't there anymore. 

Buck doesn't know what happened, but whatever it was, he has to undo it. 

He replies to the first thing that jumped into his mind. "Don't stop, it's okay. I don't mind that you're an angel." 

"Yeah, well," Eddie's tone is hard and flat in a way Buck's never heard from him before, not even during their initial interactions, when he was turning down all advances between them. He's tapping the back of his fingers against the table before he continues, "I mind that you're a human. I'm sorry. I'll go." 

The flash of blue drowns out everything and after it dissipates, in the spot where Eddie was standing an instant ago, there's nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Dani, whose birthday was just celebrated! I hope you enjoy this and continue to bring beauty and positive vibes to everything you interact with, hon! xoxoxox
> 
> *Huge* thank you to Ro, who made the gorgeous cover art! I was so happy your bday fic inspired you to make it! xoxox 
> 
> Thank you to Toughpaperround for the beta'ing and to Meloingly for the medical help with the allergy bits!

  
  


Buck's taste for danger means he never knows when enough is enough. His Captain, Bobby, always tried to drill this into him, that he has to recognize when he's taken a step too far. And Buck does, only it's usually one minute too late, when the seemingly dormant flames have caught a bit of a breeze and are flaring up again already or when the specific spot on the floor he's stepped onto has collapsed beneath his feet.

"It's a miracle you're still alive," Bobby mutters at him during a visit he pays him at the hospital, after a fire truck has crushed his leg. 

"Not a miracle," Buck smiles, swallowing his sadness and doubt over whether he would be able to walk again and continue to do the job he loves. "I have a great team behind me." 

"No, what you had so far has been insane, dumb luck. I still have no idea how all of those people were motivated enough to rush in and help pull the truck off you. But one of these days, Buck, you're going to run out of it." Bobby shakes his head, like the thought of that inevitability is too much to handle. "What you need is a partner. Someone by your side who you're going to respect and whose lead you'll follow. Or at least someone who'll be right there to get you out when you're doing something reckless again." 

And Buck keeps quiet, because even though Bobby's completely wrong this time, the truth is that he doesn't mean it. Cap's just mad at himself for not being there when the whole incident went down, due to his own rash decisions in the past. This is what he does when he's caught between guilt and anger at himself, he berates Buck, because if that's where the problem lies, in Bobby's mind that's easier to fix. 

Recuperation is going to be long. 

The first few days, Buck does nothing but focus on his leg. How to best handle himself on his crutches, around his home, when he did some flexing exercises to give the muscles in his legs the best chance not to atrophy. 

But as time passes and he gets used to it, Buck's searching for something he can do to occupy his mind while his leg slowly mends. It keeps wandering back to Eddie. The morning after the encounter with Duncan, it was tempting to believe the whole thing was some sort of a wild dream, concocted up by drinking too much alcohol. Except the recollections Buck has are too sharp and vivid, nothing like the haziness left behind when he's been drunk off his ass. 

More than anything else, he can't wipe away the memory of what it was like to kiss and be kissed by Eddie. 

The tingling starts at the back of Buck's head, where those hands had held him tight, and spreads along his nerves until it feels like he's on fire and given his profession, the irony is not lost on him. Not that he dwells on it for too long, because his thoughts keep circling back to how he can find out why Eddie rejected him. 

It takes a couple of weeks for Buck's resolve to break, after a talk with Maddie. "It's your restlessness that's gonna end up preventing you from healing quicker," she points out and with her medical background, he doesn't doubt her. She's just not aware of all the things that are keeping him awake at night. And the thought that maybe, if he doesn't pursue some information, that might stop him from going back to firefighting, that's the final push. 

Besides, if Eddie asked around about him, it's only fair that Buck return the favor. 

The bar gives off a completely different vibe in the daytime. There's no activity there until the afternoon hours, when it's mainly the employees going through the same routine. They check the property, get rid of any trash that might have remained from the night before, receive deliveries and supplies, the works. In terms of clientele, even the early evening hours don't see much action, it's only when it gets pretty dark and the place has already taken on a more mysterious air that the bar really starts buzzing with activity. 

Buck watches all of this from the window leading to the fire escape of a building across the street. He's been to this location on a call before, so he was familiar enough to find himself a comfortable spot from which he could observe everything without being spotted himself. For several consecutive days he watches, until he's sure who to approach and when. 

One of two bartenders is always the one to receive and carry inside the new supplies. There's the alcohol being delivered, but separate from that is a supply of disposables, napkins, straws and such from the picture on the side of the delivery truck. Eddie always brings in the alcohol, usually in a sleeveless undershirt and bulging biceps, which make Buck long for him even more. The disposables are carried in by another bartender. Small guy, curly hair. He's been at the bar for a while, but he doesn't leave much of an impression. Maybe that's why he repeatedly tries to strike up a conversation with the delivery guy, without much success. It's the opening Buck was looking for. Using the fact that the bartender's just been dismissed again by the delivery guy and before he's had a chance to go inside with his cardboard box, Buck approaches. 

"Hi," he smiles with his charm turned all the way up, the crutches maybe giving him a few extra sympathy points. "I'm sorry, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?" 

That in itself does the trick of appealing to a man who's just been ignored. "Yeah, sure," the bartender replies. 

"Awesome, thank you!" Buck lets his grin linger before he continues. "You guys have a bartender named Eddie working here, right?" 

"Oh yeah, we do." 

"What's the deal with him? A friend of mine is interested in asking him out, but I think the guy spells trouble." 

"Nah, man. He's a cool dude. But your friend might be barking up the wrong tree, Eddie has a kid and I've never seen him flirt with any of the guys who come in. He'd be killing it in tips if he did, but..." he twists his mouth in a 'meh' gesture. "So I think he's straight." 

"You think, you don't know?" 

The scrawny bartender shrugs his shoulders without much interest. "He doesn't really talk about his private life other than sometimes explaining when he has to go pick up his kid or something. Sorry I can't help you more." 

"No, that's fine. You've helped me plenty. Thank you. Have a great day!" 

He's about to turn around and leave when the back door they're standing by opens up. 

"Sean, you need a hand?" 

And maybe Bobby had a point about his luck, because of course it would be Eddie walking out. And this would be Buck's infamous one step too far. 

They lock eyes and it's awkward, tense and... electrifying. There are so many possibilities running between them. 

"You have to leave," Eddie eventually breaks the silence, his tone calm and closed to discussion. 

Wait, what? Not even a 'what are you doing here?' 

Not that Buck was going to admit anything, not right away at least, but Eddie could at least try to get something out of him... 

"You have a kid?" it spills out and he regrets it immediately. If his own sense of having crossed a boundary wouldn't have kicked in, the angry and betrayed look in Eddie's eyes would have been more than enough to make Buck wish he had kept his mouth shut. 

Eddie walks right up to him menacingly. 

"Get in," he grunts. 

"What?" Buck expected to be told to fuck off and leave. None of this makes sense to him anymore. 

"Not out here. Get inside." 

So he hobbles along on his crutches through the open back door, with this alarming presence right on his heels. 

"Through here," Eddie instructs, bypassing him and taking them to a small storage room. 

The door closes behind them and Buck, well... sometimes he's not that fond of danger after all. 

Eddie stands tall between him and the door, crossing his arms. In his undershirt, the pose makes all his muscles pop and that's the last thing Buck should be noticing, but there he goes anyway. 

"You were asking Sean about me." 

Not a question, which is maybe for the best. It leaves no room for an argument he was going to lose in any case. 

"I just thought that..." 

"That I did a similar thing first, so it was only fair." 

"Ummmm." Way too accurate. "Angel powers tell you that?" 

"Familiarity with how humans rationalize these things. Okay, fine. You've satisfied your curiosity, now that you've found out I have a kid. Is that enough, will you back off from here on out?" 

"So it's true, angels can have kids?" Buck did entertain the possibility that Eddie's talk about a kid is a cover up, giving him an excuse to get away when he needs one and keeping the curiosity of the other people there at bay since they decide he's not dating potential. If it was, there would be no reason to stop the charade with Buck. On the contrary, it would make it easy to force him to back away. 

Eddie sighs. "I guess so, because I had one." 

He takes out a cell phone and shows Buck his lock screen, passing the mobile as he does. It's a picture of himself with a little boy, about seven or eight years old. They're not too similar, other than the big grins they're both sporting in the photograph and something expressive, deep even, that Buck can see in their eyes. 

"He's super adorable," he says sincerely. 

"I'm all he has," Eddie replies. 

And that's that. A door closed. Because he says it with the kind of restrained pain that makes it clear he will renounce anything in the world, no matter how precious, if the good of this boy requires it and he wouldn't even give it a second thought. Given that Buck had never been that valuable to anybody, no wonder Eddie had no difficulty turning him down. 

"He's a very lucky kid, because that's a lot, to have you." 

He gives the mobile back, wishing it wasn't quite so obvious how much he means every word. But he does, he remembers how safe he felt when Eddie showed up out of nowhere, that all the discomfort Buck had felt in that miserable alley had vanished and if he's honest with himself, it didn't return, not until this conversation. Something of Eddie remained with him all this while, but now the illusion is gone. Buck slumps down on a cardboard box, his hold on the crutches loosened. He's not sure what he was expecting, coming here today, but it wasn't this. 

"Thank you." 

Eddie's looking at him in a peculiar way. It's sort of grateful, Buck supposed, which isn't bad, but it's also not a balm to his self-inflicted wound. 

"Sure. I'll get out of your hair. I'm sorry I bothered you. Give me a few minutes to rest? Then I'll see myself out, I promise." 

Eddie doesn't look too pleased. 

"Those tire you a lot?" he points with his head at the crutches. 

"I'll..." Buck doesn't want to complain, but he prefers to be truthful, so he compromises with, "I'll get used to them." 

Eddie lets his arms down and, turning around, takes a seat next to him on the cardboard box. His body radiates heat that's hard to ignore. 

"I'm sure you will. It's not what I asked." Buck nods silently and doesn't look at him. "But you couldn't have driven here with them." 

"Nope. Public transportation is your friend, if... you have absolutely no friends." It's almost a joke, if it weren't for the gloomy tone it's said in. 

"Ummm. I'm sorry I can't take you home. Middle of the day and at work, I can't risk it." 

"That's fine. It's... it's very kind of you to even consider it. You didn't ask me to come here and I'm not your responsibility." 

Eddie doesn't disagree. They spend a long moment not talking, Buck examining his hands on the crutches. "Hey, how about you come up to the bar with me? I can make you a Dracula's Kiss and I'll drive you home at the end of my shift, so you don't tire yourself too much." 

"No fancy space travel again?" 

Eddie scrunches up his face comically. "I've been meaning to cut back." 

"Oh, well... it's not exactly the lifestyle I've become accustomed to, but I guess I'll take it," Buck replies, keeping up the playfulness. It's nice, after how shitty he felt only minutes ago. But then he returns to a more serious tone, because he wants to convey to Eddie he means this, "Thank you." 

"You have nothing to thank me for. The second cocktail is going to be on you." 

"Not physically, I hope." 

Eddie chuckles. "Depends how nicely you play during my shift." 

Because as it turns out, he takes Buck with him behind the bar, seated on a chair instead of on a stool and loses his composure too often at their banter. Now that anything romantic is off the table, it's like Eddie allows himself to be more approachable and even though their conversation before was disappointing and sucked, Buck can't help enjoying this. They're probably not going to become friends, but they're being friendly for now, which is warm and nice. He'll take it. 

A couple of hours pass like that, before Eddie's phone rings. 

"Hello?" he answers and Buck can tell he's already stressed before he so much as picks up the call. Whatever he hears on the other side of the line is making it worse. "Yeah... He what?... Alright, I'll be right there," he hangs up and asks Sean to cover for him. 

He grabs his leather jacket and the keys he has stashed under it, turns around and... stops on his heels. He stares at Buck for what feels brief and like an eternity at once, then he motions with his head at the door. "Come on. We're gonna go get my son, then I'll drop you off." 

Buck nods and grabs his crutches. He moves on them as fast as he can behind Eddie, until they reach the car. The door is held open for him. Then a hand is offered to help him inside and it's warm when he grabs it, slipping into the passenger's seat. Once the crutches are inside as well, the door is shut. 

Eddie walks over and takes the driver's seat. He pulls out and as he's driving, Buck studies his features and wonders if it's okay to ask what all this is about. 

"My son, since his mom isn't... in the picture, he's been staying with the neighbors when I have to work, but the wife just called that she thinks her husband is having a heart attack, she called 911, but she needs me to come pick up Chris." 

"That's your son's name? It's lovely." Eddie glances in Buck's direction. "You sure you don't want to simply zap us there?" 

"Can't do something that obvious. But I will do this..." 

That angelic blue flashes in Eddie's eyes and the traffic light changes to green immediately. From that point on, they hit an unrelenting green wave on their way and they get to their destination in what Buck is confident must be record time. 

They're in the underground parking of an ugly apartment building, probably the best thing Eddie can afford in this costly city on a bartender's salary and when the kid in the picture had his own crutches, personally modified by the looks of it. 

Eddie lunges out of the car and Buck's right behind him, moving faster than he ever has on his crutches. The elevator takes them to the second floor while a blue flash allows a text message to go through and let the wife know they'll be right there. When the elevator opens up, there's one apartment door that's open and that's exactly where Eddie rushes to. 

Inside, an older man is lying down on the couch, his buttoned shirt undone, while a woman slightly younger than him and clearly frantic is crouching by his side. The boy from the picture is standing not too far from the apartment door, looking quietly at his neighbors. 

"Are you okay?" Eddie goes straight to him and when Chris nods, they hug with palpable relief. Not that Buck gets to stop and take much of that in. He rushes to the older man, who is grabbing his neck and gasping for air. 

"I don't know what to do," the woman sobs at Buck, who's maneuvered himself down on one knee by the couch, stretching his encased leg to the side, "he wasn't doing this noise before, he was rubbing at his neck and chest, but that was it. Which I know is a signal for a heart attack, right? Then suddenly, this..." the rest of her speech is muffled by her cries and helpless motioning. 

Buck takes hold of the sides of the man's face. "Sir, my name is Buck, I'm a firefighter and I'm here to help. I'm going to check your airways now by tilting your head back." The husband grabs at his shirt in panic, but then realization seems to sink in and with effort, he lets go and nods a little, his eyes still torn open. 

Buck tilts his head back as gently as the situation allows. The angle opens up the throat a bit, but it's visibly swollen and closing up. "Ma'am, has he eaten anything he might have been allergic to?" 

"Eaten? No, wha... He doesn't have an allergy to any foods. He has one to Ibuprofen, but that's why he never takes it. He didn't today either..." 

"But he did take some medication today? He might have gotten it mixed up. Do you have an EpiPen in the house?" 

"Yes, but we never..." 

"Go get it now!" 

She's shaken up still, but something about his tone of voice breaks through to her and she turns around, leaving for another room. While she's gone, Buck lays his head on the man's chest, listening to his breathing without letting go of his jaw, to keep his airways as open as possible. It's still a wheeze, but it's more regular than before. A quick check for the wrist pulse and the wife's back with the EpiPen. 

"Have you done this before?" Buck asks and when she shakes her head miserably, he adds, "Do you have medical alcohol, like an alcogel or something similar?" This time she nods. "Good, get me that and some tissues, quickly." She leaves to do as instructed and he looks in Eddie and Christopher's direction. He hadn't realized it, but they're both simply standing there, watching without making a sound. 

Buck motions for Eddie to come closer and once the distance between them is closed, he speaks in a low voice. "I'm about to take this gentleman's pants down for the injection, is that okay for Chris to see or do you want to take him to the other room?" 

Eddie draws back and stares at him oddly. He doesn't reply. "Chris," he says instead as he turns towards his son, "c'mon, buddy, I'm hungry. Mind showing me around the kitchen?" 

They go and Buck listens in on the man's wheezed breathing. The wife returns with the items he requested. He takes them from her before he turns the husband onto his side and lowers his pants enough to expose the site meant for injection. Buck drenches a couple of tissues in alcogel and uses them to clean his hands, then he uses a few more on the skin, where he next administers the EpiPen shot. It takes seconds before the change is clear, the man's breathing losing some of that wheezing sound, becoming deeper from one intake of air to the other. He's more and more visibly relaxed and one glance down his throat confirms that the swelling is going down considerably. 

Buck asks the woman where he can wash his hands. 

"Thank you," she says, as if she didn't hear the question. "Thank you!" she repeats with more emphasis, then she shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts and focus, pointing to a door down the hallway. "The bathroom is right through there." 

He grabs his crutches and goes. Washing his hands in the small sink, he can't help meeting his own gaze in the mirror and for a second, he recognizes himself. He has a taste for danger, that's true. And most of the time, it's a positive, because it means he gets to do a lot of good. He's missed doing this while he hasn't been working. If this quality served him so well in finding his purpose in life, how come it fucks him over so badly when it comes to relationships? 

He re-enters the living room and the woman is speaking to Eddie, apologetic. "I'm so sorry I called 911 before you arrived, if I had known the EpiPen can fix this..." 

"Actually," Buck chimes in, "the effect is temporary. It's going to wear off in 10 to 15 minutes from now, so you did the right thing." 

"Yes," Eddie agrees. "And we have to go, Mrs. Ramirez. Thank you for babysitting Chris, I'll come back another day to sort everything out." 

With his hand on Christopher's shoulder, they head out and Buck follows. The elevator arrives and they all get in. Eddie presses the button for the tenth floor. 

"Your crutches are bigger than mine," Chris breaks the silence after a minute or two. 

The elevator pings as its doors open. 

"Yeah, well. I think yours are much cooler. They're made especially for you, right? In your size? Mine are just standard." 

"That's true," Chris agrees while following his dad out and into their apartment. 

It opens to reveal a humble place, sparsely decorated. The few items there do have a warm and domestic vibe, but there's too few of them to truly make the impression come alive. It's so different from Buck's loft, where he has a ton of things, but spread out in order to give the place a minimalist touch. It was his decorator's choice, he let her have free reign. In a sense, it's probably not misleading. There is something a bit impersonal about his place, because it's never been really his. This flat, in contrast, might have been its owners' if only they had enough to make it so. 

While Buck's still looking around, there's a small hand tugging on his. "I can show you around, if you want me to, Mister...?" 

"Just Buck," he smiles warmly. 

"Then I'm just Chris." 

"Yeah, your dad told me. He's really proud of you and loves you very much. You're never 'just' Chris to him, you know?" 

Buck watches as the boy nods. It's not news to him. He's secure in his father's love and pride. And isn't that amazing? Somehow it makes Eddie even more attractive, when he should be off the table. Buck can't help it, though. He's too familiar with uncaring fathers to not admire a loving one. 

"Chris, you've done your homework already, right?" A nod. "And dinner, you've had that already?" Another one. "Alright, then it's time for bed." 

"You two have to talk?" 

Eddie smiles and taps his son on the shoulder. "Go on, buddy. We're gonna go get ready." 

Chris appears reluctant, but he starts making his way in the direction his dad's hand indicates, when he stops and turns to Buck. 

"Thank you for saving Mr. Ramirez," Chris says and leans in to hug his waist. He reciprocates. How could he not? And he feels better in this moment than he has since the fire truck bombing. He wouldn't mind letting it last. 

Chris breaks the hug when his father coughs a bit. 

He adds one last thing before he goes. "I hope you can come over for breakfast."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely Therogueheart for making this fic a couple of edits of angel!Eddie, and because I'm lame, I really struggled deciding which one to use. So you can find one of the edits at the start of chapter 3, the rest of them [over here](https://matan4il.tumblr.com/post/640310041863503872/these-are-soooooooo-freaking-amazing-thank-you-so) and lastly, at the end of this fic, a gif I made of all the edits transitioning one into the other.

  
  


It's just the two of them after Christopher's bedtime preparations are done and Buck wants to avert his eyes, focus on anything other than Eddie, but it's impossible. He's standing so close and he has that damn leather jacket on, the smell of which makes the memory of their kiss more vivid than before. 

"I didn't see that coming," he says, so quietly, it's almost to himself. 

"The allergic reaction from Mr. Ramirez?" Buck asks, confused. 

Eddie gestures for him to stop and leads the way into what turns out to be his bedroom. He coughs nervously as he closes the door after them and turns on a humble lamp by it. "I'm not..." he says awkwardly, rubbing his palm against the skin under his chin. "It's a small place, I have no other room where we can talk privately, without being overheard." 

Buck nods, understandingly. He didn't presume otherwise, Eddie had been quite clear. He taps his cast awkwardly and scans the room, his leg acting up, but the humble bedroom offers no chairs and the bed doesn't strike him as a spot he can be free to sit on. 

Eddie follows all of Buck's actions and touches the broken leg. The blue flash comes out of nowhere, stronger than the lamp, leaving no cast in its wake, no muscle weakness, no discomfort. 

"I'd been meaning to do that earlier," the angel clarifies. "Just let others believe your recovery is taking time, but you'll be fitter than you were before." 

"Yeah, of course. Thank you." Buck truly is grateful, but his mind is too distracted to dwell on it because of the words Eddie was starting to say earlier... "What didn't you see coming?" 

He sighs tiredly. "You, already bonding with Chris. I mean, you're good with kids, yeah. But I didn't guess you'd be that great with mine. You were even thinking about what he shouldn't see..." 

That's... strange. How would Eddie...? 

"You know how I am with kids? Are you... Have you been watching me?" 

Eddie rubs his forehead with frustration, before removing his hand to point out, "No! I've been watching _over_ you. There's a difference. You keep getting yourself almost killed!" 

"How long have you been watching me?" 

"Over. I haven't been watching over you for that long." 

"Since the night that we... the night at the bar?" 

Eddie shrugs and hums noncommittally. 

Buck swallows. Because his mouth is dry and his mind is racing with so many thoughts, they're all a blur that's rushing right past him. "The fire truck bombing?" 

"I couldn't stop it completely, but I made sure the truck wouldn't roll over again and crush you under it completely." 

"And the people who came to help, did you...?" 

"No," Eddie shakes his head and there's the end of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That was all them. Sometimes people surprise you." 

Buck has to sit down. "Yeah. Angels can as well, apparently." 

Eddie's expression turns solemn. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... invade your space. I guess old habits die hard." 

"Hey, no. Never apologize for caring! Old habits...?" 

He scratches the back of his hand, as if he's nervous. "Yeah. I was originally put on Earth to be a Guardian Angel. Look over people and keep them safe." 

"But you're not anymore..." 

"Yeah..." as he scrunches up his face and then forces himself to relax it, his features go through a myriad of emotions, only a handful of which Buck thinks he might have caught, let alone deciphered. "Christopher's mother came along and changed my plans." 

"You fell in love with her?" 

"I did. Shannon was beautiful and warm. Funny. Passionate. Smart and so full of hope when it came to life. It was hard not to and I... I didn't even realize what was going on until it was too late. We're not supposed to get involved with humans and once she was pregnant, there was no hiding it. At least not with the kind of straightforward person that she was. She didn't believe we were doing anything wrong, so it was impossible to convince her to lie about it. But of course they found out everything and I was discharged from my duties, dishonorably. Left in exile here with most of my powers stripped away." 

"Oh." Buck has a bad feeling about what was still left unsaid. "She's not in the picture anymore..." 

Eddie's thumb, which was stroking the palm of his other hand, is now digging into his flesh there. "The upset over my indiscretion... they felt that a strong message needed to be sent to all angels, to deter them away from humans. But they never specified what the punishment included. I thought it was only being exiled, but Chris was born with cerebral palsy and Shannon was convinced it was a part of the penalty, she blamed herself. Then a short while after his birth, she was killed in a car accident." 

Buck bites his lips. It's probably really stupid to go on asking these questions, but something about Eddie drives him on. "And you? Do you also blame yourself?" 

The sound of a short, bitter burst of laughter fills the room for a brief second and then dies out just as abruptly. "I would, if I could afford to think about it. Christopher needs me. I'm all he has. That means I don't get the luxury of remembering. The past is... it's quicksand and that boy," Eddie points to the next room, "needs me to not sink." 

Buck bites down on his tongue at how Eddie sounds so hopeless when it comes to life. 

Reaching over and holding his hands is probably a bad idea, but where words fail, sometimes the warmth of touch can serve to communicate. Buck's fingers encircle Eddie's hands, draw them close and splays them open for him to lay a soft kiss on the revealed palms. 

What's miraculous about this moment is that he's allowed to. Eddie doesn't object, doesn't pull back, doesn't physically resist at any point. When Buck looks back up at him, his gaze is full of awe and puzzlement. 

And fear. Like he's scared that this is a trick his mind is playing on him and if he so much as breathes wrongly, it will be taken away from him in an instant. 

That makes Buck brave in a way he hasn't felt in a long time, not even on his most daring calls. 

"Maybe it was a part of your punishment," he offers quietly. "Maybe it wasn't, it could have been just bad luck or the way things were meant to play out for her and her first born no matter what. Either way, none of it is your fault. You didn't choose this for either of them. If you could have, I know you would have sacrificed everything to make things better for them both. Whatever caused this, it's not on you." 

Eddie closes his fists, still within Buck's grip. 

"I'm not..." 

The long and patient silence doesn't help. That sentence remains unfinished. 

Buck takes a risk and guesses. "You're not sure that you can do this, whatever this thing is between us." 

Eddie closes his eyes sorrowfully, his own brand of confirmation. 

Oh, but if earlier Buck was resigned to whatever rejection came from him not being good enough, this new revelation sets him on fire, rage and stubborn unacceptance mixing in his blood, filling up his body. The idea that Eddie actually believes the same thing about himself is so wrong that Buck wants to grab it and shatter it, whether they'll end up together or not. 

Instead he grabs Eddie's face, forcing him to open up and their stares to meet. "You," he insists, "are not endangering me if I'm the one who wants to pursue this. You've told me about what happened to Shannon, so I know the risk. I'm making my own choice." 

"I can't let you make it." 

"Mmmm. That's nice that you think you get to decide. But the only question I want an answer to from you is if you want us, too. And that was not a no." 

Eddie turns his gaze up and blinks, as if that's not a dead giveaway that he's fighting the beginning of tears. He doesn't tear himself away from Buck's hands. "Your life is too much to put on the line, that's the answer. And for what?" 

"For love." Buck takes a step closer, still not letting go. 

"Love?" Eddie looks back at him and he's evidently shocked. "We're not in love, we barely know each other..." 

"We're not," Buck agrees. "But we're close to it, aren't we? You feel it too, right? That thing where it's like we're standing on the edge of the precipice and we haven't tipped over yet, but we're starting to, our feet are already slightly off the ground and there's this want to go over, to discover what that might be like..." 

He bites his lower lip and notices with satisfaction the way Eddie's eyes dart in on that. 

He shakes his head, another attempt at denial is clearly coming, but he never looks away. "You have a thing for bad boys. I could smell it on you the first night I saw you at the bar. So if that's what this is to you..." 

Buck uses his hold on Eddie's face for leverage, to force eye contact. "You've been watching over me. It may not be that long, but you do know me better than that or you wouldn't have kept at it." 

And that's the breaking point, the moment when too many truths have been spoken for the dam to remain intact. Eddie's on him in less than a second, crushing a hungry mouth against his lips and demanding hands against his torso. The leather jacket is there, its scent drawing in two timelines and making them crash into each other on the tip of Buck's tongue. 

Breathlessness forces them apart eventually, panting. 

But they keep their mouths close together, mutually teasing with the hint of a touch at the border of one another's lips. It tingles. It's heady. It dominates every sensation Buck's body is capable of processing, his face burning, his skin everywhere jolted, the pit of his stomach tight with the force of an intense desire kept at bay for too long and about to be unleashed. 

"What else could you smell on me when I walked into your bar?" He asks once he's caught some of his breath, turning his head to the side and presenting his neck to Eddie, elongated. "How much I wanted you?" Buck pushes every button and it's just like their car ride, only so much better with the promise of looming fulfillment. "That I couldn't stop imagining what it would be like if you fucked me in nothing but that leather jacket?" 

Eddie grunts and just as he grabs at Buck's head and brings their mouths back together, that angelic flash bursts out from up close and drowns everything out. For a split second, the whole world is blue and light and Eddie's tongue in his mouth, claiming him, twisting fingers in his hair. The next, their clothes are gone, all of them, other than the leather jacket that has Buck's pulse racing through the roof. 

He shivers. 

The suddenness, the exposure, it gets to him. 

His mind begs him to cover himself up, but before he has the chance to decide one way or another, Eddie engulfs him in his arms and their nakedness melts together. They're pressed into each other, skin and hips and chests and hard ons, and for a long moment, they do nothing but hold on to one another. Until Buck's fingers find again the confidence to trail skin across Eddie's back and the sides of his body in the space underneath his jacket. 

The difference in textures does things to Buck's brain that he doesn't fully comprehend, but is all too aware are loading his senses. 

"Turn around," Eddie growls. "Put your hands on the glass." 

Buck glances in that direction. The bedroom windows are likely the apartment's only redeeming quality, they make up most of the wall and the rays of the moon flow through them unrestricted. Most of the nearby buildings aren't as tall, leaving the sky to take up most of the view when not looking down directly. 

Eddie comes up from behind Buck, slipping hands around his waist, right above where they're really needed, speaking and kissing into the curve of his neck. "That's where I come from." The tips of Eddie's fingers press his desire into Buck's flesh. "From light. I want you to see it. I want to see you in it." 

And that's all it takes, really, because as soon as it's uttered, it's compelling on an almost physical level. Buck rolls his eyes closed, enjoying Eddie's lips on him. He's reluctant to tear himself away from that, so he tilts his body forward slowly enough for both of them to move together as he braces his hands on the big window. 

Eddie steps back and his fingers run down along the curve of Buck's back and ass, the edge of the jacket sleeve grazing the skin, murmuring something that's equally unintelligible and appreciative. It's overwhelming to hear, to sense, considering how magnificent Eddie seems to be. Maybe that's another reason why Buck had no issues believing right away that he was an angel. 

Then the fingers are gone. "Don't move no matter what, alright? Keep your hands where they are and trust me." 

Buck nods, though he's not particularly confident about anything, bereft of any idea on what's coming next. 

Until there's a pair of lips where the fingers were, kissing at the upper border of his backside and gradually moving down. Is Eddie really going there? When two hands are firmly laid on Buck's cheeks and separate them, that's the confirmation that he gets and it makes him dizzy. He puts his head against the window glass, rests it on his own fingers, making an effort to remember how to swallow. 

Eddie's lips give way to his tongue, drawing a long stripe from the top of Buck's backside and down along his crack to where he's open and vulnerable and waiting. He shivers as it swipes over his hole, moans when Eddie pulls back to let his breath ghost over it. There's a mixture of sensations that Buck's nervous system seems incapable of handling and he needs to lean more and more of his weight on the glass as the licking continues, lavishing attention on his ring muscles, massaging them into giving in. 

He's ready for it, whimpering in spite of himself, because Eddie's hands are on his hips, his thighs, his balls, the base of his dick, roaming and caressing, and the constant play, including between the feel of flesh and leather against his skin, is starting to be too much. Buck needs something to anchor him. 

He doesn't even notice when he's started mumbling 'please' repeatedly, because it's so soft while his gasps fill up his own ears, but Eddie draws his attention to it by stopping and chuckling. 

"You ask so pretty," he says after Buck has sort of come to his senses, and dives right in. Eddie's tongue splits him up, darting deep down into him and he nearly chokes before it withdraws only to push inside again. 

Buck's been rimmed before, but the depth and girth and persistent pace like this is the first time he's ever gotten to experience being tongue fucked. He relishes in it, in the dig of Eddie's fingers into his hips, the force they exert to pull Buck back onto each thrust. His head rolls against the window and when he cries out, his breath fogs the glass, glowing bright in the moonlight for a brief instant before it vanishes, as if it never was. 

He watches it disappear, so close to the flattened palms of his hands on the window, and the fragility underlined by the way that for a second, it all seems too unreal, like it could dissipate, makes him plead again. "More." 

Eddie gets it, probably. He stops and there's no teasing, only one last, low hum that reverberates through every nerve as he closes his lips around his tongue in Buck's ass, maybe a kiss goodbye for the time being. 

Eddie's tongue exits Buck and momentarily, it makes everything worse, colder and emptier. And surprisingly lonely, to stand there so exposed, waiting and unsure. 

But then there's a warm hand that travels down his spine again, making him feel desired. There's a grab at his hips, adjusting the position and spreading him open. There's a palm pressed against his chest, traveling up to his nipples, groping along the way as much as it can, like he's something to be savored. Someone to be treasured. 

A short burst of blue light from behind and there's an oiled up dick nudging at his entrance. Buck grins and moves his feet further apart. When Eddie holds his pelvis and begins to apply pressure, he gulps in a breath of air and holds it. He's already smushed against the glass, but he's being pushed even more and he loves it, his body tensing up for the inevitable penetration, making every second of it more pronounced. 

When Buck's ass surrenders and is breached, the sound of it is lewd and his insides are thrumming with the gratification of being filled. Eddie's cock is perfectly taking up all of the space within him, leaving him to practically purr with content. It's lubed just right and they've gone through enough preparation that it takes Eddie almost no effort to pull out and start slamming back in, setting up a hungry pace. 

As if that's not enough, he buries himself balls deep inside Buck with every single prod forward, in such a way that the jacket's zipper is smacking and bouncing off of his butt, while the leather is scraping him in whichever spot Eddie's hands are fondling. 

Every shove into him drives Buck up against the window and he'll take it, all of it and more, when it makes him quiver with connectedness, with a deep, internal quiet that somehow, maybe for all the wrong reasons, he's found his right place. He's felt so good in Eddie's company from their very first encounter. The angel looked out for him and trusted him with a huge secret when that was hard to justify rationally. Maybe they both have a taste for danger which has led them to a safe place. He's certain that he can lose himself in Eddie's care, in his firm grip on Buck's waist, without ever getting lost. 

He mewls onto the glass and notes with distant dissatisfaction that the pleasure taking over him is gradually robbing him of his ability to hold his hands up. His knees are starting to give way as well. He means to speak up, but he's a bit too dazed to figure out the words when he absolutely is not interested in this stopping. 

It's to his great dismay that he discovers it's happening anyway. Eddie is retreating. But he's also holding Buck up, preventing him from falling to the floor. Turning him around and settling him with his back to the window, grabbing his legs and guiding them to wrap around Eddie's waist. "Are you okay?" 

"Mmmm. Not so much without you in me," Buck replies, raising his eyebrows and biting down on his lower lip shamelessly. 

Eddie laughs, before doubling down on their points of contact and re-entering him, and coming to a stand still right after. "Better now?" 

That teasing, affectionate tone will be Buck's doom. He sighs and brings both their bodies into an embrace. It's nice that in this position, it's possible. "Much. But..." he adds, not fully comfortable with having to admit this, "you may have to continue holding me up." 

Eddie plants a kiss on his cheek, on his temple, on the unruly curls at the top of his head. It's alarmingly like being adored and Buck lets it seep in, the grace that it offers permeate him. "That's not a problem. I could even spread my wings and hold us both up, if..." Eddie stops mid sentence. "No, that's not right." 

"You have wings?" Buck can tell that his eyes are gaping wide at this. 

"Duh. Angel lore 101." 

Buck tilts his head sideways and narrows his eyes, to make his 'really?' as obvious as possible. "Must have skipped school the day they taught that class." 

Eddie chuckles. "I would have thought, with so many movies..." 

"If I had a nickel for everything movies get wrong about firefighting. And that one's way more common than angels. I think. Wait, how common are..." 

He raises his eyebrows and Buck's brought back to the present, to Eddie's erection pressed in and his abs and his mouth and the warmth of his gaze... there's nothing out of the ordinary about any of this, other than an inexplicable mesmerizing quality. Buck's pretty sure that's all Eddie, though. That if he were the human he appears to be, he'd be just as compelling. 

But now he has the chance to glimpse more and he's not about to pass that up. 

"I want to see," he draws his lower lip into his mouth and covers it with the upper one, struggling to mask his thrill in anticipation. 

"No, it's not... Shannon never liked them, not in the bedroom and not outside it." 

"So?" Buck asks sincerely. "She must have been great if you loved her, but I disagree with her on that. I want to see all of you." 

Eddie searches his eyes for something. "Are you...?" he asks. 

Buck nods. "Completely sure." he reaches up and slips the leather jacket off. "Go ahead." 

The cock inside him twitches. 

Then Eddie holds his head up, his face taking on a focused and somber expression. His eyes begin to shine blue and it spreads, a concentrated line of lightning that moves down the back of the angel's nape, its faint halo coming to envelop all of him. The line burns brighter as it gets to his back, to the spot in between his shoulder blades and as it progresses from there up into the air and to the sides, it leaves a trail of feathers in its wake, white and big, moving with life of their own, stretching in the same direction as the line of blue lightning until the brightness dies out at the end of the unveiled wings. 

They tower over the pair of them, spread out, while all of Eddie is still surrounded by that soft blue light aura. Buck wants to reach out and touch them. And he's too in awe to. 

But before he has the chance to process any of it the wings beat in the air gracefully, once, twice, and that's when he realizes Eddie's feet are no longer touching the ground. Nor is Buck's body pressed against the glass anymore. He glances at the window and sees a vague reflection of their bodies, both engulfed in that aura of blue, angel and human alike. 

"Let go," Eddie tells him. "I've got you." 

And Buck turns back at that, closes his eyes, reclining unconcerned with what would meet him, finding he's upheld somehow between shifting gusts of air and Eddie's warm palms. He allows the sensations to take over his body, delighting in how the cock inside him pulsates and regains its thrusting movements in, emitting light that can be perceived even through shut eyelids, much like every part of Eddie is. He pushes into Buck to the tempo of the beating wings, gentle and unwaveringly increasing. 

But if that's not enough, Eddie's lips are on Buck as well, seemingly everywhere, moving and lingering, nibbling and sucking, kissing and undoubtedly leaving marks. It's all orchestrated in perfect timing to lend emphasis to everything, the tracks left across skin by Eddie's fingers are followed by the playfulness of his mouth, cut abruptly by another lunge from his dick, brought to completion by the sound of the wings whipping against the air. Buck's nerves have lost the fight to distinguish the stimuli and instead, they settle for singing a simple Hallelujah. It courses through him unreserved, this song of gratitude. 

Which is when Eddie's hand sneaks its way to Buck's dick. Firm fingers wrap around it and tiny blue sparks start to fly out as they flex around his flesh and stroke in sync with the pounding into him, which itself is echoing the beating of his heart. Eddie's fist is inflaming the sensitive skin of Buck's member, twisting here, running the blunt edge of a fingernail underneath the tender head there, squeezing along the undervein, all while he's being repeatedly pushed into without relent and his upper body caressed and kissed... Until Eddie licks another stripe with the flat of his tongue along Buck's neck and it brings the present into collision with the earlier deed, leaving no more room within him to contain the physical pleasure and the utter bliss. He means to warn Eddie, but it's too late and all Buck manages is a single, groundless gasp before he's exploding and coating every inch between them, his cum then dripping down their bodies and onto the floor, re-taken by the greed of gravity. 

Not Buck and Eddie, though. The movements that are keeping the two of them floating off the ground continue, shifting the angle slightly as the ramming goes on. It isn't by much each time, but it happens enough that with Buck's legs still wrapped around the waist driving into him, he's being tilted back by the force of the motions, so that his lower back is slightly below his pelvis. It makes it seem like everything is spilling into him, Eddie's jabs, the seed he's begun spurting, the light itself. Buck hesitates, but gives in and reaches out to stroke the feathers. They’re softer than anything he’s ever touched, closer to a figment of his imagination than to anything real, that is to what he used to imagine as a kid it would be like, to touch clouds. His strokes cause Eddie to mewl loudly, his body to shake and arch into Buck’s, its light intensifying as its climax hits a peak. 

There's no telling how long this goes on for, the stroking and coming. Maybe it's only a few minutes, but if that's all, they seem to stretch forever, leaving Buck so full before it's done, insanely full of Eddie's touch, his dick, his cum that feels like it just keeps flowing... so full of his admiration. In this state, Buck has no doubt that the sentiment has only been partly confessed, the one that must have led Eddie to reveal his greatest secret and risk his own son, that he's not ready to admit yet, but his love-making ends up giving away. 

When a last stutter of his hips and a guttural groan clue Buck in that it's finished, Eddie flaps his wings a few more times, lowering them carefully onto the bed. He leaves them to rest on it, because they're both too clearly exhausted to pull the covers aside and move beneath. Buck's laying on his back and a subtle chill runs through his perspired body. Eddie's lying half on top of him, half by his side, his wings drawn in between his shoulder blades and pressed into his back. He's visibly drained, eyes closed and head turned into the space between the crook of Buck's neck and his cheek. He thinks Eddie might be falling asleep, but instead he spreads his wings to their full breadth, then brings them in and wraps them around the two of them, like a blanket. 

"Sleep," he says, adorning Buck's cheek with a kiss, before pressing his own against it, ready to do so himself. 

"I don't know if I can," the reply comes as a whisper. "I think you might have ruined me for sex with anyone else." 

Eddie lets out one quiet chuckle, not opening his eyes. "I can't say I'm sorry. Chris will be so happy if you decide to stay here for breakfast. And..." That's a very small swallow, but in this proximity, it's impossible to miss it, "so will I." 

  



End file.
